


Somehow Somewhere Someday

by visionshadows



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2013-2014 NHL Season, Established Relationship, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-04 14:46:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4141755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/visionshadows/pseuds/visionshadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It’s late, they just got knocked out of the playoffs again, and Sid’s got a haircut to get to in the morning."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somehow Somewhere Someday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pinetreekate (Too_Old)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=pinetreekate+%28Too_Old%29).



Sid can’t hear the front door being unlocked from the bathroom, not with the water running and his concentration on shaving his playoff beard. However it’s not a surprise when Geno leans against the door frame, looked wrecked and exhausted.

Sid rinses off his razor, half his face still covered in shaving cream, and looks at Geno. “I wasn’t sure if you were coming home.”

Geno lifts a shoulder in a half shrug. “I’m not sure either.”

Sid turns back to the mirror and stares at himself for a long time before lifting the razor again. He looks as tired as Geno, but he’s not processing the loss yet. Geno processes right away. He’ll process it in a few days when he’s got his team through the immediate aftermath.

Geno walks in and stands behind Sid, resting his hands on Sid’s hips and watching Sid shave. “Want to see another awful Cup beard.”

Sid ducks his head and rinses the razor again. “You will.”

“Thought this year. You play whole season.”

“I’m not the only one on the team,” Sid says evenly. He doesn’t need Geno adding his voice to the chorus of doubters he’ll deal with in the next few days.

Geno turns him gently, backing him up against the sink until Sid shifts up and sits on the counter. He takes the razor and holds Sid’s jaw in one hand, shaving slowly. Neither of them say anything as Geno finishes what Sid started, erasing the playoffs with each swipe of the razor.

Geno runs the washcloth under warm water before he finishes cleaning the shaving cream off Sid’s face. With a sigh, Sid tucks his fingers in Geno’s shirt collar and pulls him in for a kiss. There is no heat behind it, just a quiet reassurance that he’s there so maybe Geno will stop looking so defeated.

Sid slips his hand behind Geno’s neck, resting their foreheads together. “You did good.”

Geno’s eyes closed and Sid could see his eyelashes resting on his cheeks, “Just want to win *something*.”

Sid squeezes his neck, shaking Geno a little. “You will, okay. You *will*.”

Geno nods and Sid pretends he doesn’t see the moisture gathering along Geno’s eyelashes. He presses a kiss against Geno’s forehead, pushing him back so he can climb off the counter. Geno goes easily, letting Sid lead him back into the bedroom.

He’s pliant in Sid’s hands as he strips off the suit and tie, leaving it in a heap on the floor. Geno’s not going to need it anytime soon. Geno puts on the worn sweatpants Sid hands him and lets Sid bundle him into the bed.

It’s late, they just got knocked out of the playoffs again, and Sid’s got a haircut to get to in the morning. Geno’s curled against his side, head on his shoulder. Sid keeps pretending he doesn’t feel the hot tears as Geno silently (always silently) cries for another loss.

 

Sid’s awake first, too restless to stay asleep. He knows he’ll crash and crash hard in a few days but he still has things he has to do. There’s locker cleanout and all of the press that goes along with it, calls to his parents, calls to the rest of the team, Mario’s debriefing, and Geno to take care of.

He drums his fingers against the counter, staring out the window at Mario’s house across the road as the tea kettle warms for Geno’s tea. Sid wants a cup himself, but he’s already too wired. If he’s jittery when he shows up at Robin’s she’ll kill him.

The kettle whistles and Sid pours some of the boiling water into the battered samovar. He swirls it around before dumping it down the drain and adding the tea to the heated samovar. He knows the steps by heart now, can do them half-asleep, but understands the importance of each step. Natalia showed him repeatedly last summer, slowly and fondly, so that he could make Geno proper tea.

Sid stares out the window again as he waits for the tea concentrate to brew fully. His mind skips forward to the summer, too long and stretching ahead of him. Plans are only half-formed at this point. He doesn’t even know if Geno is going to Worlds much less whether he wants Sid to come to Moscow and Magnitogorsk for a few weeks.

He wants to spend some time at home too, catch up with Taylor and do nothing. He wants to lie on a beach with Geno and drink frozen drinks through brightly colored straws. He wants to paint their bedroom a different color and get a few new recliners for the den.

What he really wants is to be prepping for the Cup Final.

Sid forces his hands not to shake as he picks up the small tray with the samovar, milk, cup, and jam. Geno’s still snoring a little, making small, snuffling noises into the pillow which Sid knows means he’ll wake up easily.

Sid pours the tea concentrate into the cup, following it with milk and a spoonful of jam. Geno’s moving behind him now, making small noises of disagreement.

“слишком рано,” Geno moans a little, pressing his face into Sid’s side.

“It is not,” Sid says mildly, running his fingers through Geno’s hair. “I made you tea.”

“Реальные чай?”

“да,” Sid says, rolling his eyes. “And switch to English.”

“Russian better,” Geno says as he sits up, the covers rumpled around him and his hair sticking up. Sid hands him his tea and watches Geno take his first sip. “Good?”

“да. Mama teach you best,” Geno says, resting a hand on Sid’s thigh. His eyes are still red and puffy, but he’s at least smiling.

Sid wishes he spoke more Russian so he could answer Geno when he’s sleepy. He understands a lot more after spending time in Russia, but he still can’t talk to Geno or Geno’s parents in Russian.

“I have an appointment with Robin,” Sid says quietly, covering Geno’s hand with his own.

Geno pouts a little, looking up at Sid’s hair. “Like it longer.”

“I have to.”

“I know,” Geno says, leaning up to kiss Sid softly. He tastes of strawberry jam and tea and Sid kisses back. “Come back soon.”

“I’ll make breakfast when I get back.” Sid promises, squeezing Geno’s hand tightly.

“Might starve by then,” Geno protests, grinning around his tea cup. “Start playing with Malcolm. Never see Sid again.”

Sid flushes a little and ducks his head. “He’s cute.”

Geno laughs, smiling at Sid fondly. “Go cut hair and play with kid.”

Sid leans in and kisses him gently. “Give my love to your parents.”

Geno’s face falls at that, but he nods, looking down at this tea. Sid presses a kiss to the top of his head before getting up to leave. He knows Geno’s going to call them just like he knows that he’s going to call his parents in the car on the way back from Robin’s.

 

 

Robin lives across town. She cuts Sid’s hair at home instead of him coming into her shop and he’s thankful for that. She’s Vero’s hairdresser and Vero convinced her that Sid wasn’t going to murder her if he came to her apartment.

Sid loves Robin fiercely for the way she rolls with his quirks, lets him come over at 7 am the day after losses, and consistently calls his mustache and beard a crime against humanity. She forces him to own his shit and doesn’t sugar coat anything.

This morning, she’s tired and still dressed in her pajamas, a robe wrapped around her when she opens the door. She looks at Sid for a long moment and Sid looks back, holding her gaze steadily.

“C’mon in. You look like shit.” Robin finally says and lets him in. Cartoons are on and her four year old son Malcolm is sitting on the couch eating cereal. “Malcolm, say hi to Sid.”

“Hi Sid,” Malcolm says obediently, waving with his spoon and not looking away from the television.

“Too much work these days to make him sit in the kitchen for breakfast,” Robin says as she heads towards the kitchen, a chair already set up for Sid. “I forgot how rough it was with an infant.”

“Oh,” Sid says blankly, feeling terrible. He hadn’t even noticed that she wasn’t pregnant any longer. “I forgot.”

“I know,” Robin says easily, putting a cape around Sid’s shoulders. “She was born during the playoffs. I can’t expect you to remember anything then.”

“I could have waited,” Sid protests.

“Shut up,” Robin says fondly, spraying him in the face with a water bottle before she starts to spray his hair. “No, you can’t. It’s not like it takes long to do your hair.”

Sid listens to the cartoons in the other room, Malcolm’s giggles and the sound of the toilet flushing down the hall. Robin hums while she works, letting him sit in silence. He tries so hard not to think about the Rangers, about how close they were and they just couldn’t finish them off. He tries to think about Robin’s new baby and whether she’ll let him hold her for a bit before he leaves.

“Hey Sid,” Robin’s husband Greg says, sounding just as tired as Robin. “Tough break.”

Sid swallows thickly and catches Robin’s gaze briefly. “Yeah. We did our best.”

“You always do,” Greg says fondly, leaning over to squeeze Sid’s shoulder, making Sid wrinkle his nose and push him away lightly even though he really doesn’t mind. Greg laughs and heads over to the coffee pot. “Did Robin tell you about our new monster?”

“He barely noticed that I wasn’t pregnant,” Robin says dryly. She reaches for the clippers, turning them on. “He can see her when he’s done.”

“What did you name her?” Sid asks as Robin tilts his head. He just goes with it, learning long ago that it’s easier to just let Robin do what she wants.

“Michaela. Mikey.” Greg smiles into his coffee. “You want to hold her?”

“Can I?” asks Sid, looking at Greg hopefully. Robin turns his face back to her, a disapproving look on her face.

“Sure,” Greg says easily. He leans in for a moment. “Who shaved you?”

“Geno. Why?”

“He did a piss poor job.” Greg ran a finger against Sid’s jaw lightly. “I told you I would take care of it next time.”

Sid pulls back and shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

“Greg,” Robin sighs, exasperated. “Go away.”

Greg holds up his hand and nods. “Sorry. Overstepping my boundaries.”

“Go get Mikey,” Robin points towards the bedroom. “He’s almost done.”

Greg finishes his coffee in two big swallows and leaves the room. Robin tilts his head a little, looking at his jaw and chin.

“It’s not that bad. Greg has high standards,” Robin says gently. Sid swallows thickly and lets her pat his cheek before she starts the clippers again.

Sid drifts a little as she finishes up, thinking about shooting the puck and Lundquivst’s five hole. He can still hear cartoons and Malcolm laughing.

“Done,” Robin says. She brushes off the hair on his shoulders. “Coffee? Or do you just want to hold the baby?”

Sid looks a little sheepish. “Baby.”

Robin laughs a little and motions towards the door. Greg is standing there, holding the baby tucked up against his shoulder.

“You can’t steal her,” Greg warns as he hands her over to Sid.

“I won’t,” Sid promises, shifting his arms to accept the small bundle of blankets. She’s tiny, wrapped tightly in a rainbow blanket. She’s got round cheeks and a tuft of black hair. He strokes a finger gently over her cheek, smiling softly down at her.

“Hi Mikey.” Sid murmurs lowly, not wanting to wake her.

He feels relaxed for the first time in a long time, the weight of Mikey settling him. She shifts in his arms, opening her eyes sleepily and smacking her mouth. Her eyes are blue and Sid can’t help but kiss her forehead. She makes soft noises before settling back into sleep, leaving Sid with nothing to do but stare.

 

 

There’s a car in the driveway when he gets home and Sid lets out a sigh of exhaustion. The conversation with his parents went as well as could be expected. A lot of them saying they’re sorry and that he did his best when all of them know he didn’t.

It’s Nealer and he’s eating scrambled eggs, still wearing sunglasses and a Pens ball cap covering his greasy hair. Geno’s sitting across from him, sipping on tea. Sid can see the tea tray by the sink, the samovar turned upside down.

“Hi Nealer,” Sid says, dropping a kiss to the top of Geno’s head. He reaches over and flips Nealer’s cap off. “Why are you here?”

Nealer scowls and puts the cap back on. “I called and Geno said he was making breakfast.”

“For me. Not you.”

“Same difference,” Nealer scoops more eggs into his mouth. “Nice haircut.”

“I’m make you bacon,” Geno says, getting to his feet and taking a plate out of the oven, setting it on the counter. “No bacon for Lazy.”

“спасибо,” Sid says, leaning against him. “Robin has a little girl now.”

“Spend time holding baby?” asks Geno, wrapping his arms around Sid’s waist.

“She’s so pretty.” Sid can hear the longing in his own voice and Geno tightens his arms a little, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

“You better work harder to get a baby in Sid, G.” Nealer drawls, slurping his coffee. “His biological clock is deafening.”

“Fuck you,” Sid spits out, throwing a wet washcloth at Nealer. “Get out of my house.”

“G said I could crash in your guest room,” Nealer pouts, throwing the washcloth back at Sid. “Don’t make a liar out of your man.”

“He give me puppy eyes,” Geno protests. “Remind me of Jeffrey.”

“Fine,” Sid reaches for the plate of food. “But I’m not being quiet if we have sex. Stay at your own risk.”

Nealer laughs around his mouth full of eggs and Geno just tips his head onto Sid’s shoulder, groaning lowly.

“Now he never shut up.”

 

 

Sid starts supplying Nealer with beer after noon. Geno holds a glass of vodka in his hand, but doesn’t really drink it, just sips every so often. Sid’s drug of choice is Motrin for the ache in his wrist.

Nealer finally takes his sunglasses off after the third beer, sprawled on the floor in front of the couch in Sid’s den. Geno pokes at his side with his long toes, causing him to squirm.

“Such a bully,” Nealer sighs, rolling away from Geno’s feet. “So now what?”

“Amuse yourself,” Sid says. “I didn’t invite you over.”

“I meant in general. Now what?”

“You didn’t make any summer plans?” asks Sid. He looks over at Geno who just shrugs and sips his vodka.

“Well, training obviously. I was hoping we’d still be playing.” Nealer rolls onto his side, looking at them. “What are you guys doing?”

Sid holds up his hand. “Hopefully not having surgery.”

Geno squeezes his ankle and Nealer makes a face at that. “I wish you’d told us earlier.”

“Would that have changed how you played?” Sid feels his face get red. “Would Dan have relied on me less?”

“No. I played my hardest. We all did,” Nealer sits up. “We’re a good team, but we don’t have depth. The top two lines can only play so much.”

“Things will change,” Geno says to them. “Hopefully for better.”

“I think I’ll go to the Bahamas,” Nealer says thoughtfully. “Maybe I can get Paulie to come with me. He’ll burn like a crisp. It’ll be hilarious.”

“Florida Keys better. I go with Sergei lots. Best fishing.”

“Nova Scotia is better for fishing,” Sid protests.

“You going to invite us up?” asks Nealer. “Prove to us how great the fishing is?”

“Not you. Geno’s got an open invite.”

Nealer looks between them, then smiles. “Do you vacation together?”

“Is long summer. We have things we have to do apart,” Geno pauses and looks at Sid who gives him a nod. “But yes. Sid spend part of summer in Russia last year. I go to Nova Scotia before we know lockout was happening.”

Nealer gets to his feet, finishing his beer. “That’s good to hear.” He ruffles Geno’s hair, heading towards the kitchen. “I’m getting more beer and going to take a nap. Wake me when it’s time for dinner.”

“Not cooking dinner for you!” Geno hollers back. He sets his glass down on the end table. “Nova Scotia again this year?”

Sid shrugs. “We don’t have to. I really liked your home.”

“Maybe both. We decide later,” Geno gets up as well and holds out a hand to Sid. “Come. I have phone call to make.”

 

 

Sid is idly tracing patterns on Geno’s stomach with his hand, his chin resting on Geno’s shoulder as he spoons him from behind. Geno’s quiet, letting out a soft, barely audible ‘да’ as his parents talk to him. Sid listens as best he can but it’s hard to tell what Natalia and Vladimir are saying over the phone.

He’ll see them tomorrow. They’re just over at Geno’s house, but it doesn’t matter. Geno needs to hear them tell him that they love him and he is still the best. Geno’s parents are always so proud of him, so happy about everything he does. They don’t lie and tell him that he doesn’t make mistakes, but their support is unwavering.

Sid closes his eyes. He knows his parents love him no matter what, are proud of him no matter what. They’re just not as good at expressing it as easily as Geno’s parents. Sid’s Dad always has to point out a way they could have improved which, right after one of the worst series Sid’s ever played, is not appreciated.

Geno turns in his arms, causing Sid to open his eyes. “They say they love you and they see you tomorrow.”

“Did you tell your mom I made you tea?” asks Sid teasingly, bringing up a hand to wipe away the trace of tears on Geno’s cheeks.

“She so proud of your sad tea.”

Sid huffs and tickles Geno’s sides, pushing him over and straddling him. “My tea is not sad. I make excellent tea.”

Geno giggles, squirming under Sid, but unable to go anywhere with Sid pinning him down with his thighs. “Yes. Best tea.”

Sid leans over and kisses him, soft and slow. Geno pushes into the kiss, sliding a hand under Sid’s shirt to rub against his back.

“We have sex now? Wake up Nealer?” Geno grins a little, his tongue sticking out of his mouth.

Sid sighs a little. “I really wasn’t ready to take care of him today.”

“Not always looking for Captain Sid. Just wanted his friend today.”

Sid runs a hand through Geno’s hair. “I just wanted one day with you.”

Geno looks apologetic. “Sorry. He just so sad. Paulie tell him to go away. Doesn’t want sad face.”

“It was the right thing to do,” Sid says, resting his head on Geno’s shoulder and letting Geno wrap him in his long arms. “I wanted to be selfish. You’re leaving soon.”

“Don’t know when,” Geno says slowly. “Not sure.”

“You’re going to go to Worlds and win.” Sid presses a kiss to his jaw. “Do you hear me?”

“Russia not ask me to come,” Geno murmurs. “I lose for them in Sochi.”

“And you’ll win for them.” Sid’s voice is fierce. He feels fierce and he presses Geno back against the bed, kissing him.

Geno fists a hand between Sid’s shoulder blades, pushing down. Sid gasps against his mouth, gentling the kiss.

“You’ll win.”

Geno looks up at him, his face serious. Sid wishes he knew what he was thinking, wishes he could make Geno believe him after the shit show of their season ending and the aftermath of the Olympics.

“I want to see you lift that trophy,” Sid says softly. “I want to watch you win.”

Geno turns his head away from Sid’s gaze. Sid tips Geno’s chin back towards him. “Zhenya, you can win.”

“You come to Moscow then. See me hold trophy?”

Sid’s face breaks into a soft smile. “We can sleep with it in the bed if you want.”

Geno laughs and kisses him again, tugging at Sid’s shirt at the same time. Sid sits up to let Geno pull it off him before pushing him back down to kiss him again. It’s been too long since they’ve really had time to have sex.

It feels good to tease and kiss, to relearn Geno’s body with his fingers and mouth. Sid opens him slowly with his fingers until Geno is writhing and begging Sid in broken Russian. It’s slow and easy, the kind of sex Sid’s never had with anyone else.

When Geno comes, he whispers “я тебя люблю” against Sid’s neck, his fingers digging into Sid’s hips. Sid can only kiss him until he pulls back, gasping his own ‘I love you’ in a desperate moan.

Sid lies on his back next to Geno, their shoulders touching as they come down. Geno stretches his legs out and turns onto his side, looking at Sid thoughtfully.

“What?” asks Sid, rubbing his wrist. It’s starting to ache again, something else he wants to push aside until the next few days are over.

“I go to Worlds,” Geno says softly. “You come to Moscow and see trophy. And then come home to see family?”

Sid reaches a hand up to push Geno’s sweaty hair back. “Just try and stop me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:
> 
> слишком рано - Too early  
> Реальные чай - Real tea  
> да - Yes  
> спасибо - Thank you  
> я тебя люблю - I love you
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful beta dine. She is a fabulous person whom I hopefully have not alienated in the process of finishing this fic. Pinetreekate, I hope you enjoy this.


End file.
